


May Flights of Angels Sing Thee to Thy Rest

by vilnolin



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vilnolin/pseuds/vilnolin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Conclusion (or prequel) to of demons and blue boxes, The Tenth Doctor finds himself called to a universe that needs his help...because if they blink, they're dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Flights of Angels Sing Thee to Thy Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, which belongs to the CW and Kripke; Nor do I own Doctor Who, which belongs to the BBC. Some dialog is (c) the episode 'Blink', and the special 'The End of Time' of Doctor Who, and does not belong to me.  
> reformat/edit: 22.7.14

 

  
_They're coming. The angels are coming for you but listen; your life could depend on this. Don't blink, don't even blink! Blink and you're dead. They're fast, faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink! Good Luck._ , The Doctor,  _Doctor Who: Blink_  
 _We will sing to you, Doctor. The universe will sing you to your sleep. This song is ending. But the story never ends._  Ood Sigma,  _Doctor Who:The End of Time_

  
  
            Tired. He was ever so tired. But, as always, there was something brewing in the deepest corners of the universe, and he was needed. The Doctor was always needed. And with a heaving sigh, he patted the console of the TARDIS, looking up at her blue-lighted engines with the barest hint of a smirk. “Just where are we needed now, old friend?”  
            As if it was a cue, the TARDIS gave a huge lurch, nearly throwing him to the floor, as a steady alarm sprang up amidst the  _vwooorp!_  of her engines. “Wot now?!” He yelled, struggling to his feet, and attempting to smack the status screen into some sort of sense. The mathematical circles of the Gallifreyan language stared back at him, all reading the same thing: UNKNOWN.  
            “Unknown? How can it be unknown? There  _is_  no unknown!” the Doctor yelled, pulling this knob and yanking the crystal ball from the consol. “And that’s not supposed to happen…”  
            With a final, shuddering lurch, the TARDIS settled, her engines dying down, and her systems returning to normal. His screens still completely unhelpful, the Doctor grabbed his coat, pulling it on as he strode out of the TARDIS.  
            A cemetery; that was new. He glanced back at the blue box with an affection sort of confusion, and headed into the darkness. His sonic screwdriver was out, scanning the surrounding area almost as second nature, as he looked about. It whirred.  
            “And wot’s this?” He said, catching sight of what looked like a dug up grave. “Grave robbers?” He grinned, that would be new…  
            “Hold it!” The order came from behind him, followed by the deliberate cocking back of a safety being pulled off. “Who are you?”  
            “Good question, who are you?” He spun, knowing that, despite the gun, if they asked questions, they wanted answers.  
            He found himself facing two men who were staring at him with twin looks of astonishment. “Doctor?” The slightly shorter one said, his entire expression filled with disbelief.  
            The Doctor grinned, “Yeah, that’s me.” He was quite pleased. “Now, I don’t always meet people in the right order…so you are…?”  
            “That’s not important right now, Doctor.” The taller one said, eyes now raking the darkness in conjunction with the torch he was holding. “I need you to keep your eyes open.”  
            “Why?” He asked, watching the two with interest.  
            Neither looked back at him, but the shorter one answered, “When we met you, you gave us a warning about the first time we meet.” He stopped, something catching his gaze.  
            “Wot did I say?”  
            It was the tall one who answered, his voice tight. “ _Don't blink, don't even blink! Blink and you're dead. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink!_ ”  
            The Doctor’s face fell, realization struck him and he once again started using the sonic screwdriver, his eyes tracking where he was scanning. “Oh…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…but you’re going to have to run.”  
            “What?” The shorter yelled, still following the light of his torch, his gun trained on the beam.  
            The Doctor grabbed them both by the shoulders forcing them to spin to look at him, “I said  _RUN_!”  
            They followed him with nary a backwards glance, covering ground as if the very hounds of hell were at their feet (and they had been, once). When the familiar blue box appeared in their field of vision, the Doctor was staring back their way, looking horrified.  
            The shorter one risked a glance back—there was a snarling stone figure barely three feet behind them. “Run, Sam!”  
            “Cor, right now you’re fine. It’s quantum locked.” He finished ‘locked’ with a little tongue click, sounding exceedingly amused. “But, since you know who  _I_  am—”  
            “Hardly.” The taller one grumbled.  
            “—I’d like to know who you are.” The Doctor finished, as if he hadn’t spoken.  
            The shorter one was still staring at the snarling statue—it looked like one of the weeping angels that always adorned graveyards, though its face was predatory, fixed in an open-mouthed growl. “I’d feel better inside the TAR-thing.”   
            “Oh you know that TARDIS! Well, that’s something—“  
            “He still rambles—“  
            “Like I can’t hear him.”  
            The Doctor paused, watching the two of them with a rather amused expression. “Alright, then, come on in.” He looked back at the statue, allowing the other two to step inside the police box before he stepped back himself, only allowing the closed door to impede his view of the statue. The second it shut, a loud bang resounded on the door, followed by another, and another. And then, it was gone. The Doctor turned, to see the two men glaring at him, looking more than ready for an explanation. “Hang on, are you two,” He dropped his voice lower, hands in his pockets, “ _together_?”  
            The shorter one looked like he wanted to shoot something, while the taller one just looked exasperated.  “We’re  _brothers_.” he said, stepping forward. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is Dean.”  
            The Doctor took his proffered hand, giving it a good shake before taking a good look at the two of you. “So, you meet me in my future…your past, I assume.”  
            “When else?” Dean asked, rolling his eyes. “Look, these things have been taking mourners for the past month. Yesterday, one of our friends vanished. We need to know what these guys are and how to kill them.”  
            The Doctor continued to stare at him, slightly opened mouth with these thick-framed glasses, before he shook himself, detouring himself to the console, and the navigation screen. “Well, you can’t kill them.” He said, flipping switches, and hitting buttons. “This is America, right? Ah, yes, there we are! I’ve found us! Alright…” He turned back to the brothers, who were once again side by side, watching him rather wearily. “The TARDIS dropped us off at your motel—“  
            “How?” Sam interrupted, but the Doctor waved him off, muttering, “She’s got a telepathic field, also works for translating languages, but requires some concentration for written word, but ANYWAY.” He added, looking pointedly at Sam, “I need some more information.”  
            The brothers shared a look, and the Dean spoke, looking annoyed with having to answer questions. “Like what?”  
            “Like who are you. Wot do you do.” The Doctor looked at them, as if he was almost looking through him. “And how do you think you can deal with them?”  
            “Look, buddy, we’ve dealt with a lot worse.” Dean said, sounding grave. “What exactly are your qualifications, Doctor?”  
            “You’re older then you look,” The Doctor remarked, focusing on their eyes. “You’ve been somewhere where time runs faster…but not all of you.”  
            “We’ve both been to Hell.” Sam said, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the swirling support beams. “We’ve fought angels—real angels—and demons and whatever else has been tossed our way.”  
            “Really? Hell?” The Doctor stepped forward, placing a hand on Sam’s forehead. Sam jerked back, pulling away from the intrusion. “Really? That’s Earth’s Hell? Human’s hell?” He shook his head. “Be thankful that’s your hell.”  
            “Ok, enough of this superiority bull  _shit_ ,” Dean snapped, stepping up and glaring dangerously at the Doctor. “Just where do you get off telling other people what to do? I didn’t see you stopping the apocalypse—because that was me and Sammy. I didn’t see you fighting Lucifer, or Hunting down monsters, or saving people. If you’re so superior, why weren’t you there, stopping it? Eh?”  
            “Don’t threaten me, child.” The Doctor said, his voice dangerously quite. “I’m a Time Lord, the last of the Time Lords. I witnessed the great Time War, was there when it bore its Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been-King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres! I time-locked the entire event to prevent it from unraveling the universe. Entire armies turn at the mention of my name. I have lived ten lives, as ten different men, but always,  _always_  as the Doctor.” He fixed Dean with a hard stare. “Who are you?” With them effectively shut up, he turned back to the controls, yanking out the file he kept from Sally Sparrow all those years ago. “Now, wot’s out there, now  _that’s_ interesting. All your monsters? Nah, their boring, you’ve seen them before!” There was some of that manic excitement back in his voice, and, despite everything, it was contagious. “Well, come on, is someone gonna ask me wot they are?”  
            Sam obliged, sullenly asking, “What are they?”  
            “Brilliant question, Sam!” The Doctor exclaimed, pawing through the papers with zest. “Weeping Angels! The lonely assassins they used to be called. No one quite knows where they came from but they're as old as the universe—or very nearly—and they have survived this long because they have the most perfect defense system ever evolved. They are quantum locked. They don't exist when they're being observed. The moment they are seen by any other living creature they freeze into rock. No choice, it's a fact of their biology. In the sight of any living thing they literally turn to stone, and you can’t kill a stone. 'Course, a stone can’t kill you either but then you turn your head away, then you blink and oh yes it can. Ah ha!” he exclaimed, yanking a picture from the file. “There you are, the creature you’re looking for.”  
            It was a photograph of the weeping angel that adorned every row of graves in this particular cemetery. “That can’t be.” Sam said, peering closely at the picture. “These things are everywhere, and every one of them is one of these angels?”  
            “Possibly.” The Doctor said, reluctantly. “the thing is, I’m not sure why they’re in your universe.”  
            “Excuse me?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “I know you’re a time traveler, but _universes_? You’re not from that freaky one where we’re not us, but these jack ass actors, are you?”  
            “Don’t have much time for tele, actually.” The Doctor admitted looking amused. “But, hang on.” He pulled a pair of 3-d glassed—in all their blue and red lensed glory—and looked over the guys. “Ah! Void stuff!” he handed the glasses to Dean, who put them on reluctantly. “Traveling through parallel universes means traveling through the Void—that’s the real Hell, Sam, it’s nothing, literally, nothing—and doing that gets Void stuff stuck to you.”  
            “Dude, you have spots.” Dean smirked, causing Sam to yank the glasses off his brother, handing them back to the Doctor with barely a glance through them.  
            “Is the void stuff important?”  
            “Maybe…” The Doctor said, apparently lost in his thoughts. “Wait a tick…my monitor has a crack in it…”  
            “Don’t!” Sam yelled, stepping forward, trying to prevent the Doctor from touching it.  
            Both Dean and the Doctor regarded him with amusement. “Why not, Sam?” The Doctor sounded as if he was testing him, and Sam was not one to turn down a challenge.  
            “It feels wrong.” He said, unable to word it better than that.  
            “Feels wrong…yes, that it does… but Angels!” He turned around, the crack on the screen seemingly forgotten. “Angels, angels, angels, angels, An-gels, anGELS, angels—right, sorry.” He pulled a lever, and the TARDIS shook, springing into life with its characteristic wheeze.   
            “Can we destroy them?” Dean asked, peering over the papers. “And who’s she? Dude, she’s hot.”  
            The Doctor yanked Sally Sparrow’s photo away from Dean, though it fluttered away from him as he grabbed for purchase at another wild lurch of the TARDIS. Then, without a word to Sam and Dean, he strode to the doors and yanked them open, extending a hand to someone who was sitting, huddled outside.  
            “Bobby?!” Dean exclaimed, running to his old mentor “They took you! Are you ok?”  
            “What the hell is  _this_ , you idjit?” Bobby demanded, looking slightly horrified at the inside of the TARDIS. “It’s bigger on the inside.”  
            The Doctor mouthed the words in time with Bobby, before going, “Yes, really? I hadn’t noticed.” And locking the doors behind him. He ran to the controls again, and once again, the time machine was whirring through the time vortex. “The Weeping Angels are interesting, the only psychopaths in the universe to kill you nicely. No mess, no fuss. They just zap you into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life is used up and blown away in the blink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present they consume the energy of all the days you might have had, all your stolen moments. They're creatures of the abstract. They live off potential energy. Which does make rescue possible, and thus…” He ran out of the TARDIS again, coming back with a small girl, dressed in black, sobbing into her doll. “Eliminating their power!”  
            “What?” Sam questioned, picking the little girl up when she ran to him, sobbing.  
            The Doctor paused in his actions, looking between Sam and Dean and Bobby. “The Angels are only here because they’re feeding on energy—must have found their way through a crack in the universe somewhere—but, if we take away their victims, bring them back to their lives…the Angels lose their energy. And then, just maybe…” He trailed off, and they couldn’t get another word out of him until he had finished grabbing the twenty odd people out of their various new times.   
            Bobby led the procession back into the graveyard, it day time now, and gave Sam and Dean a nervous nod before leaving them alone with the Doctor.  
            It was Sam who broke the silence. “So, are they dead?”  
            “Dead? No! no…” The Doctor smiled. “They’re powerless. Unless someone wanders directly into their path…” He trailed off, thinking quickly before dashing out of the control room, down some long pathway that neither Sam nor Dean could see the end of.  
            He reappeared behind them, clutching what looked like a scanner out of Star Trek. “Here you go.”  
            “Thanks.” Dean said, staring at the device with apprehension. “One, how do you work it and two, what does it do.”  
            It was all twists and turns, and Sam picked it up a lot quicker than Dean, but the only explanation as to its function was “Just don’t aim it near anything solid you want to keep.” They felt hurried out, as the Doctor waved them off, only asking for a single date before his blue box vanished into the air. He watched them, though, on his screen, as they checked in with their friends, and set off across the graveyard. He watched them track down the Angels, stationary in their rows, and watched the look of surprised delight when the scanner caused the stone to shatter and break apart. He had researched these two, as soon as they left the TARDIS, and from what they had revealed of themselves, they had changed HISTORY. He’d go and warn them, let them know that they had hope…but the Angels…  
            Angels… the Weeping Angels were showing up in more and more places…but he had sealed the Universes…Rose trapped in the other… It shouldn’t be happening…  
            He shook his head, pulling down the lever and setting off for the planet of the Ood. He was being summoned (though he’d take the long way, as usual), and, as always, the Doctor was needed.  
  
 **The End**


End file.
